A Family Legacy
by AliceJFeare
Summary: After the war, all may have been well for Harry Potter, but not for everyone. The Ollivander family lost everything to the reign of Voldemort, and now they must pick up the pieces in the aftermath. (This will be very long)
1. The Olive Branch

Author's Notes: This is meant to be a somewhat modernist piece. All flashbacks/memories/dreams are in italics, and are NOT meant to be taken as 100% truth. Each is written from a given character's _individual perspective_, and not everyone remembers events exactly as they happened (so PLEASE do not give comments on discrepancies or any 'out-of-character-ness' **within** italicised passages – they are placed there for a reason). I will attempt to keep my information on-par with Pottermore, but I began this piece in May of 2012 and my assumptions will reflect that fact. Enjoy.

* * *

02 May 1998

It had been a long night at St. Mungo's.

Germaine Ollivander had only caught bits of what was happening in the ten hours since he'd been Flooed in. Severus Snape had fled Hogwarts School. Minerva McGonagall had ordered evacuation. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named brought an army of Death Eaters to Hogwarts. Some kids who called themselves "Dumbledore's Army" were fighting back. Injured wizards were now streaming into the Spell Damage ward, each with a different report and a different story.

The Chief-Healer-In-Charge had ordered three teams of Mediwizards to Hogwarts, to try and abate some of the situation there. His wife was on one of those teams. He hadn't heard from her in hours. No-one had received word from any of the teams since they'd arrived.

The number of admissions had peaked at dawn. Either the battle was growing in intensity, or the fighting had ended. He could do nothing but think about Elizabeth as he rushed from patient to patient, giving orders to his subordinates along the way. But he couldn't allow himself to be distracted now. There was work to be done, and he was one of the top experts in spell damage. St. Mungo's needed him.

The door at the end of the ward burst open, revealing all three Mediwizard teams robed in red-and-white stripes.

"It's a Reductor Curse, Pye," he said to the young man brought up from Creature-Induced Injuries, who was staring at the charred leg of an unconscious young witch. "Treat it like a high-order dragon burn."

"Yes, sir."

Germaine clapped him on the shoulder and left them for a moment to scan the group of Mediwizards. He felt a pair of hands seize him around the middle.

"Bess?" he said upon seeing his beloved wife. He wrapped his arms around her, savouring the moment.

"Your father's alive, Gerry," she told him, her eyes swimming with tears. "Molly told me, and they're pretty sure that they know where Vera is, too."

Germaine couldn't believe the news. His father and his daughter: alive almost two years after they'd disappeared from Diagon Alley. He stayed silent for a while, just holding his wife, with no desire to ever separate again.

"You-Know-Who's dead!" shouted a young trainee, whom Germaine did not know.

Silence fell instantly. It was quieter than Germaine had ever seen it. Everyone was staring at the trainee.

"It's true! Harry Potter came back and killed him!"

As quickly as the silence came, a celebratory atmosphere filled the ward. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was dead, and peace would come to Wizarding Britain. Germaine kissed his wife, thankful that they could now reunite their family.

* * *

Germaine Flooed back to their flat at eight that morning. The neighbour girl from across the hall was sprawled out on the sofa, sound asleep. It had been a long night for her, too. Without even taking off his travelling cloak, Germaine walked straight to his youngest son's bedroom.

Little Giulius was sitting bolt upright in his bed, his head turned toward the door.

"Dada!" he squealed, flinging aside his stuffed Kneazle (named Banther) and holding his pudgy little arms toward his father.

Germaine picked up his son and held him close; savouring the peaceful bond they shared. He walked over to the window, opening the curtains to allow the bright morning sunshine to stream in and illuminate the tiny bedroom. Germaine picked up an old photograph that had been placed on his Giulius's dresser. Actually, it wasn't that old – it was taken three weeks before Garrick and Guinevere vanished.

"Gules," he said, getting the baby's attention. "Who's that?"

He pointed to the tiny figure of himself holding his second-youngest son, smiling and happier than he had been in over a year.

"Dada."

"And who's that?" He pointed to an eight-months-pregnant Elizabeth, who was beaming up at them with one hand on her swollen stomach.

"Mama."

"And who's he?" His finger now rested on the picture of his eldest son, who stood beside him in the picture.

"That Gee-gee. That Gam-gam. That Gack." Germaine could not have been more impressed with his son, who had just named his three older brothers.

"Good job! Who's that?"

"Sissy."

Germaine felt a small pang as he looked at the image of his only daughter in the arms of her grandfather.

"And who's that?"

"Gwampy."

Germaine was silent for a moment as he put the picture back on the dresser. It was a game he'd played with Giulius many, many times before in the absence of his siblings. As he kissed his son, Germaine wondered what life would be like when they reunited. They had scattered their family just after his father and Guinevere disappeared, boarding up the shop and the flat above. He and Elizabeth had moved into a tiny flat in London with new-born Giulius; Guillaume (the eldest) went to live with Elizabeth's childhood friend in Edinburgh; Gambit went with his Uncle Eugene and Aunty Anna in Meigh; and Giacomo lived with his Aunt Valley and Uncle Danny outside of Stratford. It had been hard on the family, but he and Elizabeth knew that the only way to keep their children safe was to separate them.

Germaine carried Giulius out to the living room and put him in his playpen, where he contented himself with a vast assortment of stuffed animals and cuddly toys. Taking out his wand for the first time since arriving, Germaine set a tea kettle full of water on the stove and lit it. The sudden burst of sound jarred the neighbour girl awake.

"Oh, Mr Ollivander, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed in alarm, reaching for her wand with one hand and rubbing her eyes with the other. "I didn't realise you were home!"

"It's fine- it's been a long night for all of us. Tea?"

"Uh…er…sure, thanks."

He Summoned two ceramic mugs from a wall cupboard, which landed on the pinewood table with a clink. He got up and went to the pantry to retrieve two tea bags, mainly for something to do. All he wanted was for Elizabeth to come home.

He set the sugar bowl and a bottle of milk on the table as he heard a whooshing noise from the fireplace. Elizabeth climbed out, enthusiastically greeting her youngest son with a loud kiss on the forehead. Germaine Summoned a third mug for her, but she set to warming up some mashed-up food for Giulius. She kissed her husband on the cheek, in a far gayer mood than she had been in for a year.

"Morning, Jamie," she said to the neighbour girl in a pleasant voice. "I trust my little Giulius behaved himself."

"'Course, Mrs Ollivander. He's the sweetest baby I know – slept right through the night, didn't even know you were gone."

Elizabeth sighed.

"Well, at least one life will stay innocent."

She lifted Giulius from the playpen and set him in his high chair, giving him a plastic spoon and a bowl with some mashed sweet potato. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat across the table from Germaine in a peaceful silence.

"Well," said Jamie, setting her mug down on the table. "Thanks for the tea – I should be going: my mum'll be worried about me."

"Mmn…that she will. Will ten Galleons be alright for now, Jamie? That's all I've got on me."

Jamie whistled in awe.

"Ten Galleons! That's more than just 'alright,' that's bleedin' amazin' – sorry, that one just slipped out. This is the easiest job I've ever had!"

Elizabeth cracked the slightest bit of a smile as she handed Jamie the money.

"You'd best run along, Jamie dear, or your mum will have our heads," said Germaine, keeping his eyes on his wife.

"Right."

She disappeared out the door without another word. Germaine and Elizabeth savoured the silence for another moment before she broke it.

"You know what this means, don't you, Gerry?" she asked, though she already knew the answer. Germaine knew, too – he didn't have to explain to her.

"Where should we start?"

She took another swallow of tea before answering.

"Giac," she said simply. "He's the youngest, and he's the only one we haven't heard from. Katie took Gee-gee on the run with her – so who knows when they'll be back, and Gene's owl said that Gammy's having a jolly old time with them in Ireland."

"Did you get any word on–?"

"Vera? No, but I reported her to Kingsley when he came in – that was right after you left. He says what's left of the Aurors will be after the Malfoys just as soon as they finish ID-ing the rest of the, er, victims. And they're watching the Death Eaters closely, so don't try anything stupid, Gerry – I know you want to, and trust me, so do I. If that son of a hag so much as breathed on my daughter…"

Her speech trailed off as she took another angry drink. Germaine looked around the flat.

"We're gonna need a bigger place."

"Oh, and Molly said she'd drop by later – probably not today, she has…things to take care of."

Germaine nodded.

_His mother came into his room early on Halloween morning. The sun was not yet up and twenty-seven-year-old Germaine pulled the blankets up further over his head to compensate for the sudden burst of light. His mother ripped them off with a flick of her wand._

"_Ma-ah," he whined, sounding several decades younger than he actually was. "It's too early. Pop's not opening now, is he?"_

"_We're not opening at all – get up! We're going to the Ministry."_

_Germaine swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes sleepily._

"_Why? It's not Kiddell again, is it? I thought we cleared up the theft case last month."_

"_It's your sister. Now hurry up, your father's waiting and he says he needs us."_

_He detected a hint of worry in his mother's voice, a note which caused his to perk up instantly. He grabbed his work clothes from the chest of drawers – a simple white shirt with a pair of brown slacks, a matching brown tie and blazer, and a dark red robe. Stuffing his wand in an inside pocket, he practically ran into the kitchen to meet his mother._

"_Visitors entrance," she said simply. "Wait five minutes."_

_She exited downstairs through the shop. Germaine crossed to the window to watch her Disapparate from the main street, which was deserted. He shrugged his shoulders and cut himself a thick slice of bread, toasting it with a jet of flames from his wand._

_The time passed slowly, with Germaine growing more and more anxious by the minute. He jumped up the second the minute hand hit the next numeral, ran out into the street and Apparated into a dingy London alleyway. He made his way over to the deserted red telephone box, picking over the puddles of garbage and sick that spattered the pavement – no doubt the residue of a night's revelry from a nearby pub. Checking once again for any passers-by, Germaine shut himself in and dialled 62442, twitching nervously as the dials whirred back into place._

"_Please state your name and business."_

"_Germaine Ollivander, here for something about my sister, Giulietta Carmichael."_

_The coin slot spat out a silver badge, which Germaine pinned to the left breast of his robes. He just barely glanced at the badge, which read:_

_Germaine__ Ollivander_

_Carmichael Case_

"_Visitor to the Ministry, kindly affix the badge to the front of your robes and present your wand at the Security Desk for identification. The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."_

"_As if," Germaine muttered as a lift activated, dropping him into the fairly deserted Atrium, practically into the arms of his mother._

"_Come on, get your wand checked. We've got to hurry before your father does something stupid."_

_Germaine practically threw his wand at the blue-robed wizard, who looked not the least bit bothered by his behaviour. He placed the wand on his Identifometer and calmly read off the slip of parchment it issued._

"_Hawthorn and dragon heartstring, been in use…seventeen years?"_

"_Yes, yes, get on with it!"_

"_Mind your manners, Gerry. Apologise to the gentleman."_

_Germaine hated how his mother could always make him feel like he was five years old. He stared intently at his feet as he muttered a barely-audible apology. The Security Wizard waved him off._

"_Now, where would we go if we're involved in a case?"_

"_Department of Magical Law Enforcement, ma'am," the Security Wizard said. "They'll re-direct ya if yer in the wrong place."_

"_Thank you. Come along, Gerry."_

_Germaine thought he saw the Security Wizard shoot him a sympathetic look as he followed his mother over to the golden-grilled lifts._

"_Department of Magical Law Enforcement, please," she said to a small, golden face beside the door._

"_Right away, ma'am," it said. "And you, sir?"_

"_Uh, er, Department of Magical Law Enforcement."_

"_Thank you - that will be just a few moments."_

_The lift doors slammed shut and the elevator practically flew off, venturing into the great, dark, deep unknown of the Ministry of Magic…_

"Gerry? Gerry, are you listening to me?"

The sound of his wife's voice brought Germaine back to reality with a harsh snap.

"Sorry, drifted off… Molly?"

"Molly might come by later – Arthur has to let us under the Fidelis Charm so we can visit your father. If not today, she said she'd be here tomorrow."

Germaine reached across the table to grasp Elizabeth's hand, tears welling up in his eyes as he suddenly got hit with a flying glob of orange goo. He and Elizabeth turned in unison to see Giulius bobbing up and down in his high chair as he applauded for himself. Germaine shook his head slowly, watching as his wife laughed openly for the first time in years.

* * *

Elizabeth had opened the balcony door to let in the fresh morning sunshine. Hesitantly, Germaine took a step outside, surveying the whole of Muggle London. He could see smoke rising from an unseen place to the east – great plumes of it streaming from where, not twenty-four hours ago, Diagon Alley stood. Allowing another sigh to escape, Germaine collapsed onto the sofa in the living room and put his head in his hands.

"There was nothing you could have done to save her, Gerry," came Elizabeth's voice from somewhere behind him. "It wasn't just her leg – the poor girl was burned so badly, it was a miracle she survived the trip at all."

"What am I going to tell my father?" he moaned quietly, not even looking at her.

He could feel her hand on his back, rubbing in gentle, soothing circles.

"The truth," she replied, as if she was telling Giulius that one and one made two. A voice one would use if one was talking to a child.

"It's – it's not that simple, Bess," he answered, his voice breaking. He could feel hot tears welling up behind his eyes. What a disgrace he felt: he was a man, and men did not cry. "That place has stood since – since, oh, I don't know – the Great Fire! He's gonna blame me for it – I know he will! I was supposed to keep it, and now everything's gone! Gone, Bess! Can't you see that? His entire lifetime – all of his work, just erased! Just like that, gone…"

"Well, maybe this is good, Gerry. You get a fresh start this time. I know you need it, and I think he will, too."

Germaine raised his head, staring deep into his wife's chocolate-brown eyes. He knew she was right – she always was. There was no sense in arguing the matter – there never was. As he leaned in to kiss her, a silver crocodile came swimming in through the open door and laid itself down on the coffee table.

"Elizabeth?" questioned Molly's voice from the animal's mouth. "Elizabeth, dear, it's me, Molly…I can't get my Patronus to come out right, I don't know what's wrong. I keep getting this thing. You need to open your fireplace, dear, Arthur needs to come through. He won't be staying long, just enough time to let you in under the Fidelis Charm. I should be going – lots to do…"

The crocodile vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Wow," said Elizabeth, a look of perplexity frozen on her face. "Molly's Patronus changed."

"It did?" Germaine asked. "Why, what was it before?"

"A duck."

Germaine shrugged his shoulders.

"What do you mean…?" she did a rather cruel, but not entirely inaccurate impersonation of him. "Molly's sent enough Patronuses our way – you should recognise hers!"

"What can I say, honey? Wizards just don't notice those things."

He could hear his wife growl, clearly annoyed with him. Yet somehow, he didn't seem to care this time around. Something in her tone had changed – he didn't know what, but he had it too. He watched her draw her wand and cross to the fireplace.

"It's already open, Bess," he said. "I opened it this morning."

"Oh," she replied, straightening up. "Well, then…"

Her voice trailed off, mumbling something about the incompetence of men. Germaine shrugged again as he heard a rushing sound from the fireplace.

"Morning, Elizabeth, Germaine," said the tall, lanky form of Arthur Weasley as he stepped out of the fireplace.

"Morning, Arthur," Elizabeth said, embracing him in a friendly manner. Germaine noticed how tired he looked as he stepped forward to shake the other wizard's hand. They were barely two years apart, but Arthur looked as though he'd aged twelve years in a single night – his thinning hair now more silver than ginger, lines and dark circles around his slightly reddened eyes deeper and more pronounced than ever before. He looked pale, the sallow skin barely showing a network of blue veins. Arthur cleared his throat.

"I'm afraid I can't stay long," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "The home of Muriel Prewett can be found in the country of Hampshire."

Elizabeth hugged him again.

"Thank you," she whispered. "And Arthur, if you and Molly ever need anything…"

The silence finished her sentence for her. Arthur stepped into the fireplace and vanished in the blink of an eye.

"Let's see," said Elizabeth, picking up Giulius. "Who have we _not _asked to watch Gules in the past week?"

Germaine smiled.


	2. A Light In the Dark

_Garrick could see the lights flashing in front of him as the lift descended two short storeys before stopping abruptly. He took an unsteady step to prevent himself from falling into the gentleman beside him._

"_Department of Magical Law Enforcement, sirs," announced the face in the wall. "Is there anything else you require today?"_

"_No, thank you," said the other wizard as Garrick followed him out of the lift and down a maze of corridors to a large, open room divided into many cubicles. A sign on one of them read 'Auror Office'. The wizard led Garrick down the side and into an office._

"_Right in here, Mr Ollivander. Auror Moody will be with you shortly."_

"_Yes, thank you," he said to the young wizard who'd just closed the door behind him. Garrick sat gingerly in a chair on the public side of a desk in what appeared to be a messy office, filled top to bottom with an assortment of 'Wanted' posters, Dark Detectors, maps, and newspaper clippings. Yet, somehow, there was an order to it – things stacked in such a way that any form of tampering would be immediately evident, Dark Detectors placed so that they covered every inch of the tiny office, unnerving posters designed to put a person on edge. _

_He could not help but jump a little as the door to the office creaked open, revealing a young man aged and scarred beyond his years. He was only a year older than Germaine, Garrick remembered as he rose to shake the man's hand._

"_Alastor Moody, Ash and Phoenix feather, how's it working for you, dear boy?"_

_Moody produced a wand a little over a foot long from a holster at his belt. He held it up, the pale wood reflecting the light gently over its shining surface. _

"_Saved my life a coupla times, it did. Your work's good."_

"_Good, good – you were a tricky one to match there, boy…very, very tricky…but I suppose you haven't summoned me here to merely discuss your wand."_

_Moody gave a little grunt as he picked his way through the room to seat himself behind his desk. Garrick noticed that he walked with a slight limp – perhaps a relic of the Donalbaine case last month._

"_Mr Ollivander, we need you to identify two wands found at the scene of a triple homicide last night."_

"_Only two?"_

"_Only two. The third was…under-age."_

_Garrick shuddered a bit. Who could murder a child?_

"_We have the address of the crime scene; we just need confirmation of the victims' identity."_

_Garrick swallowed his fear, sitting up as straight as he had always been taught to._

"_Very well, may I see them?"_

_The scars on Moody's face slackened even more as he reached under his desk and pulled out two wands. He kept his hand over them until the last possible second._

_And then the wands became knives. And the knives were on fire. He could feel the stab wounds puncture his body before they even came, and somewhere way off in the distance, he could hear a woman cackling…_

* * *

There was something creepy about Mr Ollivander's eyes.

Ginny Weasley had thought the same thing for the past month, but continued to pursue the same ideas as she moved about the house in a kind of stupor – packing up her family's things as they prepared to move back to the Burrow. There was something dead behind the icy grey she remembered from the first time she'd met him. She was only two years old – it was Charlie's turn for a wand. Something behind Mr Ollivander's eyes saw right down deep into the darkest recesses of your soul, though they appeared to see nothing at all. She wondered if he was an Occlumens – surely that would explain it wouldn't it?

"Mr Ollivander?" she entreated gently, drawing the old man out of his trance with a strong twitch.

"Mmn…hmn…yes?"

"Your son's here."

_The midwife had said almost the same thing forty-six years ago._

"_Congratulations, Mr Ollivander. You have a son."_

_The sense of pure joy was foreign to him, animal even. The only thing close would be his wedding day, yet even that seemed ordinary compared to this. A new life – a life __**he'd**__ helped create. A child…_

_But the joy faded to neutrality; neutrality to fear; fear to pure, raw terror. And somewhere off in the background he could hear a woman cackling…_

* * *

Germaine could not help but stare. _Merlin, he looks so __**thin**__,_ he thought in astonishment, but his Ravenclaw sensibility took over, explaining the logic behind his father's lengthened hair and vaguely skeletal appearance. There was just something so…unfamiliar and lost about the man. Germaine approached him with caution, almost afraid to speak above a whisper.

"Pop? Pop, it's me, Gerry."

Garrick said nothing, but slowly raised his head to look his son in the eye.

"Gerry?" he said softly.

"Yeah, it's me. I brought Bess, too."

"But – your kids…"

"We split them up after you and Vera were kidnapped. They're safe."

Garrick's face transformed suddenly, taking on a hard ferocity that Germaine had never seen before in his life. It frightened him a little – the sudden burst of clarity.

"Gwenny! Where is she? Is she alright?"

"Settle down, Pop," Germaine said, taking hold of his father by the shoulders. He wasn't sure how to continue: the topic of Guinevere hadn't come up in any of the scenarios he'd envisioned over the past few hours. Should he lie? Hell, Germaine didn't even know exactly **what **was happening on that front.

"Ver-Vera's still missing, Pop," he conceded, patting his father's hand gently. "But Kingsley's got Aurors looking for her _right now_ – they'll find her soon."

At least half of it was true.

"And – the shop?"

Germaine wasn't sure how to answer that one either.

"The shop stood for two years, Pop – you cast your spells good. But when Harry Potter and them escaped Gringotts with the dragon, they took half of Diagon Alley with them, including the shop."

"What did we lose?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything, Pop. The place is gone."

Garrick looked positively devastated; the deadened look in his eyes becoming deader, if that was even possible.

"Well, then," he said, trying to keep some strength in his voice, "We'll have to rebuild, won't we?"

Germaine locked eyes with Elizabeth, shooting her a look that said _you've got to be kidding me_.

"Do you_ really_ think we can?"

"Of course, you two and the kids need a place to live, and from what the Weasley boys have told me, the world needs saving from the likes of Jimmy Kiddell."

"You've got to be crazy, Pop. Bess and I still have our jobs at St Mungo's, and the kids aren't old enough to help–"

"Boy, our family has stood their ground for the past twenty-four-hundred years, and I'll be _damned_ if it ends with me! We've had to rebuild before, and we can do it again!

"Now," he continued, his demeanour changing in the blink of an eye. "How much is left? You say _everything_ is gone…"

"Well," began Germaine, reaching into the inside pocket of his robe. "I saved two things…"

_Garrick noticed a certain 'look' cross Moody's face as he pulled his hand off of the first wand, sliding the second beneath the desk. Gingerly, Garrick picked it up, though he was nearly certain of the owner._

"_Apple…Dragon heartstring…thirteen inches…this belonged–"_

_He cut himself off, nearly dropping the wand back onto the desk._

"_To – to Jacob Carmichael…"_

_He wanted to double-check, but he knew the result would be the same. He couldn't believe it – no, it wasn't true. His little girl was a widow. Unless…_

_No, that wasn't possible._

_Garrick handed the wand back to Moody. _

"_May I see the second?"_

_Moody's expression darkened as he handed the second wand to Garrick._

_The wand reached up of its own accord, striking a burning spell at his heart. And he could hear a faint delirious cackle…_

Germaine handed a pair of wands to Garrick. He took them in silence, examining both of them in disbelief.

"I found yours the morning after."

Germaine was right…it was his… Garrick placed it delicately on a side table, picking up the second as one would hold a baby bird.

"_Sing, __**Willow, willow, willow**__..."_

_Garrick must have heard her sing that phrase a thousand times, but he never tired of it. Her voice was thin, but the melody came simple and pure – perfect for Desdemona._

"_Do you think I'm good enough, Daddy?" she asked, staring up at him with her big green eyes. "Do you think I'll get it?"_

_Garrick smiled, a whole new kind of warmth spreading to his face as he took his daughter in his arms._

"_Of course, Giulie…they'll love you…"_

_A burning fire, and a maniacal laugh…_

Garrick rolled the short length of willow between his fingertips, nursing the memory of the little girl who once held it.

"_Daddy, when do I get my wand?"_

"_Well," said Garrick, making a little note in his register. "Gerry got his when he was ten…so…why not today?"_

"_Really?"_

_Garrick couldn't help but smile as he saw the wonder in her eyes._

"_Of course, Giulie – come on!"_

_She knew her wand on sight – not even trying any others before she found the willow, encasing a delicate unicorn hair core…  
_

* * *

_Alastor Moody removed his hand from the second wand, and Garrick felt a little piece of him die as he stared at the short length of willow in disbelief. It couldn't be – not Giulietta! She was so young, so vibrant – she couldn't be… No, there must have been some mistake! This is all wrong: a nightmare, even! Yes, that was it: it was a nightmare! Now if he could only wake up…_

_But he knew, without even picking it up that it was her wand. He wiped back the first tears from his silver eyes._

"_Giu-Giulietta Carmichael…"_

_His voice was shaking. Moody reached across the table and put a hand on Garrick's shoulder._

"_I am so, so sorry, Mr Ollivander. They died bravely, and justice will be done."_

_Garrick could no longer fight it – the tears were coming in waves. Waves of salt water that turned in to little rivers of acid burning down his face. And peals of dark, mad laughter rang in his ears…_

"I took it with me when we closed up the shop. I – I couldn't leave it."

Garrick was silent for a moment. He placed Giulietta's wand on the table beside his, lining up the handles, highlighting the four-and-a-half inch difference between them.

"You…you did the right thing, Gerry," he whispered, the misty look returning to his eyes as quickly as it had faded before. "All we can do now is re-build - and she'll go back to the window, remember? Giulie always loved that."

Germaine swallowed and looked down at the floor. Speaking of Giulietta always filled him with an intense, stabbing guilt – though he did not know why.

_The world is messed up like this sometimes._


End file.
